


The Five Stages of Obliviousness

by Dreams of Kalopsia (Sir_Arghs_III)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because what are we? Canon-compliant?, But Allura didn't die, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, The Conservatory Events, Yearly Valentine's Day balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Arghs_III/pseuds/Dreams%20of%20Kalopsia
Summary: There’s always a process to everything. For Lance, that meant taking a few years to realize a thing or two.Stage 5: Realization. What is love, anyway?
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 26
Kudos: 82
Collections: The Conservatory Events





	1. Deflection (Stage 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Conservatory Events. Inspired by [Nessa's](https://nessajjewell.tumblr.com/) cutie [art](https://nessajjewell.tumblr.com/post/613215940938711040/so-in-my-server-we-did-an-exchange-of-sorts-i), which was colored by [Sue](https://suemaryrakocy.tumblr.com/). Please check out their art! ^u^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the old to make way for the new, there must first be a good goodbye.

The first time Lance heard that Pidge had started seeing someone, he felt strange. It reminded him of the times his sisters brought their first boyfriends home to introduce to the family: he’d always known that they’d start dating in unspecified times in the future, but the arrival of those times still jarred him.

Pidge’s case was more jarring, though. Probably because one, he was still a kid when his sisters started dating, so it didn’t have much of an impact; and two, Pidge was the kid who had now grown into a young lady.

Man, Lance felt old. Old and strange.

 _But_ at least he got to tease her now. Something like, ‘Pidge and Griffin, sittin’ on a tree…’

While he was genuinely happy for her new relationship, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for his own.

The war and the imminent collapse of all realities ended with Voltron’s sacrifice. The Lions had decided it was the best option that produced the best outcomes, and so they had gone to save every existing reality with their original Paladins after bidding goodbye to their current ones.

Everything should’ve been okay now. Everyone should be having the happy start of the rest of their lives. Apparently, happy ever after didn’t work that way. It took lots of work in helping peoples rebuild their planets, countless speeches proclaiming peace and convincing planets to join the Alliance of the Free Worlds, and lots of time to reflect on decisions he’d made during the war in extended periods of time away from Allura.

Lance tried to understand. Or rather, he _did_ understand. When Voltron vanished from every existing reality, two planets reemerged in its place. Allura had to lead her people back to their planet and restore Altea to its full glory. He got that. He himself was helping return stability to Earth and the Galaxy Garrison. The workload might not be as heavy as hers, but their busy schedules didn’t leave much room to meet up and… you know. Do boyfriend-girlfriend things like _date_.

But it was actually the little things that bothered him.

Like how they’d talk more about the progress of work on their planets than how they’d missed each other. The late realization on his part that they barely had anything in common outside of their experiences in the war. The sudden cancellations of their planned days off together. Their almost dispassionate kisses goodbye. The insidious weariness that had begun to weigh him down just thinking about visiting her in Altea, even with the convenience of wormholes—the same weariness she probably felt whenever she looked at him and her shoulders would slump just the slightest bit. The niggling suspicion that he’d put Allura on a pedestal right from the start and had been keeping her there this whole time.

These small things eventually culminated in a not-so-startling epiphany.

The relationship just wasn’t working anymore.

Lance sighed as he knocked on Allura’s bedroom door. This wasn’t the ideal topic to talk about so close to Valentine’s Day, especially with the inauguration of the Garrison’s yearly Valentine’s Day Ball as Earth’s initiative to promote friendly interplanetary relations outside of diplomatic meetings. But why put it off and prolong their mutual suffering?

The door opened. Allura’s surprised face greeted him. “Lance?”

He gave a small wave. “Hey, Allura.”

“What brings you here? Is something the matter?” she asked worriedly, stepping aside to let him enter her room.

“There’s…” A nervous lump lodged in his throat. He swallowed it down to try to get rid of it. “There’s something I want to talk about,” he hedged.

“I’m listening.” She settled down on her couch and motioned for him to sit beside her.

He slowly walked over and sat down, if only to buy a bit more time.

How did one broach a topic like this?

Lance had no idea, so he went straight to the point. “I’ve been thinking about this for some time, and…” He met her gaze. “I think we should break up.”

Silence followed his declaration.

Allura stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

Abject fear that his intuition and logic had been wrong gripped his heart. Had he misread her? Had he misread _them_?

But the fear dissipated when she spoke. “I’m so relieved,” she admitted shakily as she covered her face with her hands. “I thought I was the only one thinking about it.”

Lance released a breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He gathered her into his arms, and she leaned her temple onto his shoulder, her hair brushing against the crook of his neck, her weight familiar against his body. She smelled like the juniberry flowers she loved so much. “We rushed into things,” he stated simply but gently. He felt her nod.

“The war kept devastating us and we needed some comfort.”

He nodded this time. “I put you on a pedestal. I forgot that you weren’t invincible or perfect. I’m so sorry, Allura.”

She shook her head. “I put unreasonable expectations on you, too. I hope you can forgive me.”

Silence fell upon them once more.

Lance listened to Allura’s quiet sobs. They sounded so distinctly relieved. Since she was the type of person who never gave up on anything, she must’ve agonized over their relationship, struggling to make it work no matter what. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. He’d made the right decision mustering the courage to do this; she probably wouldn’t have brought it up ever.

“You’ll still be family to me,” she said at length, her voice less tremulous now. “I don’t want you out of my life.”

“Of course,” he assured. “We were family before we were lovers. I still love you, just in a different way.”

She let out a contented, relieved sigh. “I’m glad we’ve established that.”

“When do we tell the others?”

“Hmm. We can wait until after the Ball.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Allura paused for a few moments before speaking again. “You said you put me on a pedestal, but… you also always believed in me and cheered me on. I wouldn’t have recovered from Lotor’s betrayal if it hadn’t been for your support. I wouldn’t have been able to refocus on the war without your gentle reminders. I wouldn’t have—” A happy sob escaped her. “I wouldn’t have a family on Earth if you hadn’t shared yours. Thank you, Lance.”

Lance chuckled softly, though his heart twinged and the corner of his eyes prickled with tears. “I’m the one who dumped you. Why are you the one consoling me?”

She pulled away from him. Her eyes were watery, but she had a grateful smile brightening her face. “I just thought you needed to know.”

His tears fell.

* * *

Lance would willingly admit that he hadn’t expected much from the Galaxy Garrison’s Valentine’s Day Ball. Most of the member planets of the Alliance were still in the process of rehabilitation, after all, as far as he recalled. But as he and Allura crossed the threshold of the bare doorway to the Garrison’s largest lecture hall, they walked into an elegantly designed _ballroom_. Round tables draped with wine-red and white cloths bordered a large carpeted dance floor in precise, even spaces. A wide variety of food and drinks tantalized from the rectangular tables lining the walls.

What surprised him more was the number of guests milling about, and the identity of the guests he recognized. They were important people, world leaders, and representatives of their planets, all here on Earth’s invitation.

 _This_ was what he’d fought for. Not the fanciness of the gathering, but the gathering itself. Everyone looking relaxed and curious instead of terrified for themselves and their families.

His heart swelled. “Wow.”

“It _is_ amazing,” Allura confirmed, sharing a smile with him. She took his hand and led him to the dance floor. “Let’s dance!”

Lance grinned. They probably wouldn’t get a chance later once they start greeting people, especially for Allura. They used the first dance to refresh her on the basic waltz he’d taught her, then relished the second one as their last dance both in this Ball and as a couple.

He didn’t feel the least bit sad, though. They could still dance next year, even as lifelong friends and family.

After they bowed to each other at the end of the song, they were approached by different people, and they went their separate ways for their own circles: Lance with Nyma, Rolo, and Beezer; Allura with leaders like her.

He could’ve kept socializing to meet new and old friends, but he chose to sit back and watch everyone instead. It still astounded him sometimes, how much everything had changed in his lifetime. And he’d been right in the middle of everything! A self-satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

“What are you smirking by yourself for?”

He jolted and bit down his cry at the last second.

Pidge had taken the seat next to him and was giving him a weirded-out look.

“Pidge! What’re you doing here? Where’s your boyfriend?” Wow, it felt weird to ask her that. He craned his neck for any visual on James.

She shrugged. “You looked so lonely sitting on your own while everyone’s dancing, so I decided to keep you company.”

“I’m not lonely. I’m people watching,” he explained. “Isn’t this so cool? Just a year ago I wasn’t sure I’d get to see Earth again, but now we’re back home and everyone is safe, and they’re all chatting with each other like close friends.”

Surprise flashed across her face before morphing into a smile. “You know what? You’re right.” She made herself comfortable in her seat and joined him in watching the most diverse crowd they’d ever seen mingling amicably.

Lance caught sight of James, who was arching a brow in their direction. “You should go back to James, Pidge. He’s looking this way.”

Pidge glanced at her boyfriend and waved, but she didn’t budge. “I’ll go in about…” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes. We have the rest of the time to spend with each other, anyway.”

He hummed dubiously, looking back at James. The guy shrugged, so Lance guessed it was fine. “If you say so.”

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty when Hunk and Shay arrived, then turned into fifty when Keith and Coran arrived _together_ , sending everyone into fits of hysterical laughter.

“What?” Keith asked defensively. “The invitation just said I’m required to bring a companion! The other Blades were in the middle of a relief operation!”

“You could—couldn’t—ahahaha—sorry—” Hunk breathed in deep to calm himself. “You couldn’t bring anyone else? No offense, Coran,” he added apologetically.

“None taken,” Coran chimed in, as good-natured as always. “Though I must admit I was surprised myself!”

They all laughed harder—except for Keith, whose face was now a deep red.

Then fifty minutes turned into seventy-five when Shiro and Curtis arrived, Curtis graciously lending them his date as he went on to greet his superiors and colleagues.

Then seventy-five minutes stretched on and on when Allura rejoined the group.

Lance took in the precious people around him and smiled fondly. It felt like he was back at the Castle of Lions again.

It was the least lonely he’d felt in a long time.


	2. Willful Ignorance (Stage 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not what you think.

As Lance and Allura had agreed on, they gathered the rest of Team Voltron to break the news to them.

“Everyone, Lance and I have an announcement to make.” Allura looked at Lance for one last confirmation. At his reassuring nod, she turned to the others. “We’ve decided to part ways.”

“Only romantically!” he hurried to clarify, seeing the growing horror on their faces. “We’re still friends.”

“Family,” she corrected with a smile.

Everyone released a loud, collective sigh of relief.

“Let me get this straight,” Hunk said. His eyes alternated between the two of them with residual concern. “You guys broke up.”

“Yes,” Allura answered.

“But nothing has to change.”

“Uh huh,” Lance confirmed.

“So we don’t have to pick sides.”

“No, of course not!” Allura cried almost indignantly, the mere notion obviously unthinkable to her. “We called you here because we wanted you to hear the news directly from us, not from some disreputable source.”

“Yeah. So Keith won’t fight anyone to the death defending our honor,” Lance teased.

Keith frowned, blinked, then gave a good-humored shrug as the joke sank in. “Duly noted.”

“And so Coran and Shiro won’t get caught off-guard when people start asking invasive questions.” Coran and Shiro nodded at Allura in understanding.

“ _And_ so Hunk and Pidge won’t… I don’t know. Blow someone up ‘accidentally’ for our sake.”

“Hey, we don’t blow people up!” Pidge protested.

Lance waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. Then whatever tech-y thing you can do to avenge me and Allura if we receive backlash for breaking up. The point is we wanted you guys to be the first to know. To hear it directly from us so you won’t worry.” He stood up. “Well, that’s really all we had to tell you. Thanks for making time on short notice, guys,” he said, smiling at them.

Hunk stood up, too. “Okay, since we’re all here anyway, how about a group hug?” He spread his arms wide and gestured for everyone to huddle up.

The rest of the Team, naturally and amid chuckles, obediently followed.

* * *

In all honesty, being single was so much better than his last months with Allura. It wasn’t her, of course; their paths in life just led to vastly different goals. Allura was meant to lead and govern as Queen of Altea. Lance was meant to nurture cadets to become astroexplorers and enjoy the peace he’d helped win as a humble instructor and pilot on Earth. There wasn’t a compromise that wouldn’t make one of them resent the other eventually. But since they’d set each other free, they’d avoided the inevitable fallout that would’ve ensued had they insisted to find one. They could stay as family for the rest of their lives.

Lance would say he and Allura had made a good call.

Now he could find a new, realistic definition of love at his own pace. Seeing as his first serious relationship had been founded on quite the twisted definition, it would probably take a considerable amount of time. That was fine; he wasn’t in any particular hurry. There was so much more to the universe than romance. He understood that now.

Still, he remained an advocate of love, and he’d continue to support those who were faring better than him. Like Hunk and Shay, Romelle and Tavo, Shiro and Curtis, Pidge and… whoever her current partner was. He’d lost track.

James had amicably broken up with her a couple months after Valentine’s Day. Sometime later, she had an Unilu girlfriend for a while. Then she started dating an Olkari.

That was as far as Lance could go.

Being in the Garrison together didn’t exactly mean being able to see each other often enough, if at all. As members of different divisions, they had different missions and were deployed to different places at different times. Pidge’s missions involved the completion of the planetary defense and offense systems. Lance and Shiro’s involved community education and giving motivational speeches in hopes of inspiring some of the children to join the Garrison once it was ready to recruit future astroexplorers again. Add to that the Paladin work of helping other planets, which the Team had agreed to divide among themselves. It was hard to exchange more than “Hey.” “Hey. Did you grow taller, Pidge?” “No, you’re losing height.” “Oh. Well it’s nice to finally see you when we’re talking.” “Jerk.” whenever Lance met Pidge along the corridors. Didn’t really allow for relationship discussions, right?

In any case, it seemed she had a new suitor now.

Lance watched with mild interest as Pidge listened to a chattering suitor—suitor because he wasn’t uniformed, he was definitely Puigian, and Pidge was keeping a wide berth between them—by the entrance to the mess hall. Pidge was still in her full uniform, complete with her beret, which meant she just got back from her mission, _which_ also meant she was definitely exhausted. She had a polite smile on her face, but the corners of her lips were twitching in a tell-tale sign of her patience running out. If the guy didn’t stop talking anytime soon, she’d probably delete him from her life. Lance took a sip of his tea.

His phone pinged. He glanced at the screen: a message from Pidge.

He furrowed his rows at his phone, then at Pidge by the entrance. She had her hands clasped behind her back.

Or more accurately, she had _one_ hand clasping her other hand, which was holding her phone.

The suitor guy was still talking.

Lance opened the message.

_‘I’m heading your way. Help me get rid of him.’_

Within seconds of his opening it, Pidge entered the mess hall, followed by her persistent suitor.

“I have prepared everything for you for the Ball,” the Puigian said. “I should like to dress you in what you Earthlings call ‘gold’.”

‘Should like’?

‘ _Gold’_?

The furrows on Lance’s brows deepened. How obnoxious. This guy was even more obnoxious than he was at seventeen.

He sensed a pointed gaze boring into him. He looked up and found Pidge’s eyes signaling for him to do something as she replied, “I’m sorry, Mauk. I really can’t go with you.”

Mauk held up a hand in a patronizing manner. He must’ve thought it was reassuring. “No need to be shy, Miss Katie. I have taken care of everything. I have freed you from worry.”

The two had reached Lance’s table now. In his endeavor to convince Pidge to change her mind, Mauk hadn’t noticed who Lance was. Lance could feel Pidge’s foot nudging his in a covert call for help, but he bided his time to assess the situation.

“Mauk…” Pidge sighed wearily. “I really. _Cannot_. Go with you,” she enunciated in the slowest speed her worn out patience could allow.

Her words finally registered. Mauk’s face contorted into a genuinely dumbfounded expression. “But I bought you some of your Earthling coffee.”

“That was just one time, and you insisted.”

“But I have already prepared your dress,” he continued as if Pidge hadn’t rebutted him, his voice rising in volume. “How can you refuse?”

Lance’s jaw dropped. He could see that Pidge’s and those of the few others in their vicinity had dropped, too.

He took that as a cue and stood up, stretching to his full height so he could tower menacingly over the much shorter Puigian.

All eyes fell on him.

During the war, Lance had learned two things about himself when it came to pressure.

One: Despite his self-doubts, he always, _always_ delivered on the battlefield when it mattered, depending on his ability to adapt and improvise.

Two: He was useless under pressure the rest of the time.

That meant he’d had no concrete plan when he stood up. But everybody was watching him closely, waiting to see what he’d do.

He wracked his brain for something, anything—

“Because she’s going with me.”

_Oh, shit._

Of all the— That was the best he could come up with?!

Pidge froze beside him. Lance fought the wince off his face. Everyone else gasped, Mauk gasping the loudest.

“P-Paladin Lance! I d-did not see you— I should have—” he stuttered.

He addressed Lance properly but wouldn’t stop calling Pidge ‘Miss Katie’? Even in shock and distress he was an a—

“That’s why I can’t go with you,” Pidge said, quickly recovering.

Lance stole a glance at her. She managed to maintain a neutral, polite countenance all throughout her interaction with this alien and his own mad winging. She’d probably go ballistic later, but for now… _Gotta hand it to her._

“I-I understand, Miss Katie. If it is Paladin Lance, I can…” Mauk conceded, his eyes and shoulders drooping in defeat. He’d already turned to leave when an idea struck Lance.

“Wait, Mauk,” he called. “If you’re interested, we have a friend we can introduce.”

Mauk turned back, interest and vitality flaring in his eyes again. “Yes, Paladin Lance?”

Lance faked hesitation. “She’s an android, though…”

Pidge’s eyes widened at his words, and he knew that she’d caught up with his plan when she looked at him incredulously.

“What is her name?”

“PeneloChip.”

“Pfft—” Pidge covered her blunder with a cough. Similar coughs echoed in the hall.

“PeneloChip…” the Puigian repeated. “I find it a beautiful name. Would she fit in the dress I have prepared, I wonder?”

“Pretty sure we can fix—I mean, arrange a fitting if you want,” Pidge replied.

Mauk gave her a satisfied smile. “I would appreciate that, Miss Katie.”

And with that, the obnoxious nuisance of a guy happily took his leave, and a possible interplanetary strife had been safely averted.

Everyone who witnessed the… _encounter_ burst out laughing once the alien had gone.

“Penelo—Penelo _Chip_?” Pidge laughed. “Seriously?”

Lance shrugged unapologetically. “I thought it was perfect.” He sat back down, pleased with himself.

“He’ll kill you for this,” she warned him, but its gravity was lost on the levity of the situation.

“Just tell him it’s a favor I’ll return someday. Like, well into the distant future.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the table. “Incredible turnaround to my day,” she said, shaking her head in amazement.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Incredible start to mine.” Then he remembered the other details of this turnaround. “I know it was just an excuse to fend off Mauk, but are you sure you’re okay with going with me?” he asked before returning to his tea.

Pidge looked taken aback. “Uhm, why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

“People might start rumors and stuff.”

She snorted. “Rumors, you can deny anytime. Seeing Mauk and Chip dancing together, you only see _once_ in a lifetime.”

Smirking, Lance raised his mug to her. “Wiser words have never been spoken.”

Things were about to get interesting.

And hilarious.

* * *

In the weeks leading to the Ball, Pidge updated Lance on the preparations for PeneloChip’s debut, starting with a video of Chip in the shooting range.

He seemed to be practicing his skills with a blaster. _“As an android, I have no notion of sex and gender,”_ he began with his eternally chipper voice. _“I only go by what was assigned to me upon waking up.”_ After three more shots, he set his blaster down and disappeared from view for a few seconds to retrieve his shooting target. _“Nonetheless,”_ he continued as he returned to the camera’s vantage point. He held up his target.

Lance shuddered.

It had a picture of him taped on it. The video started to get shaky, and he heard Pidge sniggering behind the camera. _“I’ll make sure to return the favor for involving me in something ridiculous.”_ Chip’s threatening words and actions made the permanently friendly expression on his face terrifying.

The next updates were just photos and, thankfully, much less threatening.

Chip with longer hair.

Chip wearing a new uniform, a feminine protrusion on his chest area. Matt doubled over in laughter in the background.

Pidge and Colleen discussing the lavish golden dress in Colleen’s hands.

A selfie of Pidge, Chip, Matt, and Colleen with a caption that said, _‘Grand reveal at the Ball. See you!’_

And now the D-Day—or _V_ -Day—had arrived.

Lance vibrated with excitement as he waited with Mauk by the entrance to the lecture-hall-turned-ballroom. This was it, the long-awaited meeting of PeneloChip and Mauk. He wondered if he’d be able to hold in his laughter.

He caught a glint of gold somewhere to his left. He turned towards it and couldn’t help grinning. Pidge and Chi—no, PeneloChip were approaching, both of them looking great in their dresses.

And Mauk was absolutely smitten.

“Mauk, this is PeneloChip,” Pidge introduced, gesturing to PeneloChip on her right. “PeneloChip, this is Mauk. He’s the son of one of Puig’s top engineers.”

PeneloChip held out a hand to shake Mauk’s. “Pleased to meet you, Mauk.”

Lance’s abdomen clenched as it tried to push laughter out of him, but he valiantly pushed it back down. Pidge had raised the pitch of Chip’s voice, too. She was so thorough with selling Chip off as PeneloChip it was almost overkill.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss PeneloChip,” Mauk said, turning her hand and kissing the top of it.

Lance hid his grimace by looking away.

“Nice to see you, Lance.” To his surprise, she held her hand out to him as well.

“You, too,” he replied with a quirked brow. He took her hand—and was _shocked_. As in, a short burst of current flowed throughout his body. He scowled at her.

“Allow me to accompany you to the Ball,” Mauk said, offering his arm. PeneloChip just nodded and walked into the venue without taking it.

Lance waited for the door to close before whining, “He—She shocked me!”

Pidge gave him a quizzical look. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Electrically!” He paused to consider her question. “Though I’m also literally shocked you guys pulled it off.” Saying that reminded him of Mauk’s lovestruck face. The laughter he’d been keeping in succeeded in escaping this time. Her laughter immediately followed his.

“I only fixed her hair and body proportions. The rest was all Mom,” she said proudly.

“Colleen is a _genius_.”

“ _Everyone_ in my family is a genius, Lance.”

He chuckled. “True.”

“Should we go in now?” she asked, stepping closer.

He did a double-take. The top of her head leveled with his chin. “Whoa, Pidge, did you get taller _again_?”

She released a fed-up sigh. “How many times do I have to explain to everybody? Of course I did; I’m in my last phase of growth and development. Did you think I’d stay short forever?”

“Ye—” She shot him a deadly glare. “No. Why would I, right?”

Pidge huffed, her glare disappearing. “Exactly. Also because I’m wearing heels.” She lifted a foot. True enough, she had low-heeled shoes on. “Anyway, let’s go in. I still have to take a video of PeneloChip.”

“Plus painstakingly dispel any rumors and misconceptions,” he added.

“That, too,” she groaned, but she pulled a determined expression. “For entertainment.”

“For entertainment,” he repeated, her determination rubbing off on him.

They fell into step and entered the ballroom.

* * *

Allura and Coran saw them first.

Allura gasped delightedly, her eyes lighting up, but Pidge was quick to react.

“Sorry to disappoint, Allura, but no.”

Lance shook his head for emphasis.

And disappointed she was.

They bumped into Romelle and Tavo next. As per Altean customs, the couple hadn’t left Altea for a year to care for their daughter—the first baby to be born on Altea after ten thousand years and Allura’s goddaughter. It was wonderful to see them again, but…

Romelle looked at Lance. Then at Pidge. Then at Lance and Pidge. “Am I supposed to say congratulations?”

“No,” Lance and Pidge replied.

Shiro just stared at them with his handsome, lopsided grin. Curtis at least made an effort to hide his smile.

“ _Not_ what you’re thinking, Shiro,” Lance said.

“Or what _you’re_ thinking, Curtis,” Pidge added.

Hunk had an eerily similar reaction to Romelle.

“Should I say congra—” But something else caught his attention. “Hey, is that Chi—”

Pidge clamped a hand over his mouth. “Yes, it’s _PeneloChip_.” Hunk laughed, though it was muffled by her hand. “She took one for the team and saved me from a pesky guy who was harassing me to go with him.”

Lance frowned. “That was _my_ idea!”

She removed her hand from Hunk’s mouth and directed an annoyed gaze at him. “So? Who couldn’t think of a better reason for me not wanting to go with him and caused all this?”

“You know I’m not good with pressure!”

He saw Hunk and Shay exchange a look but ignored it.

Keith and Krolia just shrugged.

Bless their family.

“Haaah… If someone so much as waggles their eyebrows at us I will burn their brows off,” Pidge grumbled as she opened her purse.

Lance glimpsed its contents. “You keep a welding gun in your purse?”

“I have to be ready in case Chip’s hair or boobs fall off.” She took out her phone. “Are they dancing yet?”

“Uh…” He searched for any gold in the crowd and found PeneloChip and Mauk near the dance floor. “Not yet, but soon.” He pointed them to her so she could start videoing.

The next song started. Mauk invited PeneloChip to dance, and they went over to the dance floor.

“Does he—she even know how to dance?” Lance whispered.

Pidge shushed him, eyes trained on what her camera was recording. “And yes. Mom, Matt, and Dad took turns with me in teaching him—her,” she whispered back.

“Huh.” He watched PeneloChip smoothly dance despite a bumbling Mauk.

After some time, he glanced at Pidge. Her face had softened into an amused but fond and proud countenance. It was rare for her to openly express her innermost feelings, so Lance felt lucky to see them on her face. He smiled and returned to watching PeneloChip and Mauk.

Once the song ended, PeneloChip politely shrugged off Mauk and made an exit.

Lance chuckled. “Mauk looks heartbroken. Where’s she going?”

“The lab. We agreed on one dance,” Pidge answered, tucking away her phone.

“I’m amazed she lasted that long with him.”

“She was plotting her revenge on you the whole time.”

He gulped.

Pidge laughed at him. “I actually promised to take him to my next mission.”

“Phew. Don’t scare me like that, Pidge.”

She grinned and started walking towards the door. “I’m going to de-Penelo PeneloChip. Are you gonna stay here?”

He thought about it. “No. I think I can visit my parents if I leave now,” he said, following her. “So, what do you think? I was a good emergency date, right?”

She narrowed her eyes in thought, humming as she deliberated. “Passable,” she replied after a long time.

He let out an affronted cry, making her laugh again.

“Thanks for helping me out with Mauk, Lance.” She smiled gratefully at him.

Lance smiled, too. “Don’t mention it. If you end up needing a date again to escape creepy people, just give me a call.”

Pidge tilted her head to the side. “What makes you so sure you won’t have your own date next year?”

“The knowledge that I’m not ready for a new relationship,” he replied matter-of-factly.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her give him an odd look.

He didn’t think to ask what it was for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Chip. I thought it would be funny. TTuTT


	3. Suppression of Suspicion (Stage 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is most precious when it's borrowed.

The third year of peace was marked by momentous events across the universe.

The last few planets still in critical danger had finally been stabilized and were on their way to recovery. Every inhabited planet in the universe had joined the Alliance. Two of the planets formed an empire when their rulers fell in love and got married. The Galaxy Garrison had fully reorganized its ranks and finalized its new curriculum and was now ready to welcome cadets for the coming school term.

To Lance, it was the year of significant, exciting changes.

But not-so-excitingly, it was also the year that Pidge became notoriously known as Miss Winter Break for dumping her Amixian boyfriend two days before the Valentine’s Day Ball. Lance thought it was an unfair label, given that she broke up with her other partners outside of February, but he supposed it stuck due to the harshness of breaking up with the alien near Valentine’s Day and the lack of care that she might have to shamefully go to the Ball without the required companion.

Lance scoffed. As if the genius Green Paladin ever ran out of backup plans. As if the intuitive Red Paladin hadn’t acted on his hunch that Pidge wouldn’t be able to stand her boyfriend for too long and had failed to prepare for this scenario.

As he stood admiring the intricate pinstripes and luster of the royal blue double-breasted suit on his bed, his phone rang.

Of course it was Pidge.

“Hey, Pidge.”

 _“I broke up with Merick.”_ A wry smile formed on his lips. Sheesh, not even a greeting.

“So I heard,” he replied nonchalantly. “To think I was just airing out the suit I bought last year.”

The line went silent for a beat. _“…You knew it wouldn’t work, didn’t you?”_

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’. “Just as you knew I could go as your emergency date.”

_“Ugh. Curse this damn Ball. Can’t I just skip?”_

He sat beside his suit and absently ran a hand along its lapel. “You’re a very important figure who _has_ to be there. Besides, you’re going with _me_. How is that a bad thing?”

That got a laugh from the other end. _“Let’s go apeshit this year, Lance.”_

His brows rose high. “Like ‘razzle-dazzle’ apeshit or plain ol’ ‘prank everyone’ apeshit?”

 _“We can always do both?”_ she offered, and he accepted with a chuckle.

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

“Okay. First phase of our plan,” Pidge started.

Though she stood right in front of him, Lance prudently kept his eyes off of her. There wasn’t any particular reason, really. It just felt like the right thing to do the moment he saw her.

Pidge moved into his visual field, and he immediately averted his eyes. “We go in and walk straight to the dance floor.” She shifted again, and he adjusted the direction of his gaze accordingly. “We smile and nod at—is there something wrong with your eyes, Lance?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” he answered _way_ too quickly. He died a little inside.

“Oh yeah? Then look at me properly.”

“I _am_ looking.”

“I know I said I’m still growing, but I’m not as tall as the _ceiling_.”

Lance slowly lowered his eyes towards her.

Okay, so maybe there was a particular reason.

She was wearing a midnight blue dress with beautiful beadwork that crisscrossed diagonally over its entirety. The skirt began as a thick band below her chest and flared around her waist, ending mid-thigh. Two swathes of the dress extended from the sides of the skirt to cover her breasts and twisted around each other once above them before continuing to her back. The dress left a lot of her skin bare.

And he meant _a lot_.

He swallowed thickly and fought the impulse to look away. “It’s… You’re showing—” He cleared his throat. “Won’t you get cold?”

Pidge’s cheeks turned red. “This isn’t my original dress. Nadia forced me to swap with her when I told her we’re—” She cut herself off, glared at him, and crossed her arms to cover the exposed skin of her chest. “I thought we’re going ‘razzle-dazzle’ apeshit, too? Why are you complaining?”

“I’m not!” he argued. “I was just worried you’ll get cold!”

“You can give me your jacket if I do!” she countered, then sighed. “Look, can we not make this awkward and just go back to the plan? Are you still in or not?”

He shot her an indignant look. “Of course I am!”

“So look at me and listen to the plan.”

“Fine,” he said, making sure to stare at her to prove his point. A small, petty part of him felt victorious in seeing her blush harder under his intent gaze.

“A-As I was saying, we’ll go in, walk straight to the dance floor. We’ll smile and nod at everyone, but we won’t stop to greet anyone. Not even the Team,” she summarized. “Got it?”

Pretty simple for the first phase of their plan. But then again, with Lance in his dapper suit and slicked-back hair and Pidge in a gorgeously sparkling, risqué dress, they didn’t need a more complicated one.

“Yeah.” Now used to her getup, he smiled at her. “Let’s go wow the universe, Pidge.”

A confident smile replaced her mortified blush. “Razzle-dazzle time,” she said, quoting him from all the way back to their Voltron Shows.

A laugh escaped him.

* * *

Phase one of their plan to go apeshit went swimmingly. Every alien and human they passed by never failed to observe them or at least spare a long glance.

“Okay, we’ve done the ‘razzle-dazzle’ part. How do we go about the ‘prank everyone’ part?” Lance asked as they swayed together in a slow dance. Pidge had kept him in the dark as to what they’d do to prank all the VIPs present without turning every planet against Earth. For the first time since he’d agreed to this plan, worry seeped into his mind.

The devious gleam in Pidge’s eyes wasn’t helping.

“You know the ‘Macarena’?” she asked back.

“Yeah…?” he answered, though he couldn’t see how the song was related to their plan.

“You know the dance?”

Oh. Ohhh. His lips slowly curled up in a grin. “Who doesn’t?”

She grinned, too. “Exactly,” she replied, stifling a giggle. And just like that, she was fifteen-year-old Pidge again, able to find fun even in the midst of a war, and he remembered why he’d tagged along for every shenanigan. Whatever worry he had vanished. She met his eyes with a stern expression. He nearly jolted, afraid that she’d caught him staring unintentionally. “Listen closely.”

He nodded, relieved that she hadn’t noticed, and gave his full attention.

“No backing out of this.”

“Uh huh.”

“We follow each other’s cues and give backup.”

“That goes without saying, Pidge.”

“No laughing, or our jig’s up.”

He chuckled. She gave him a warning look. “I’m serious!”

“I know, I know,” he said as he spun her.

“We have to be believable,” she continued once she was facing him again.

“Easy peasy.”

She nodded, finally satisfied. Then she smirked conspiratorially at him. “You ready?”

Adrenaline rushed through his veins. “Ready.”

“Good. ‘Cause I hacked the sound system to play it next.”

The slow song they were dancing to faded into silence, putting baffled expressions on the guests’ faces.

Pidge glanced at him before taking a deep breath. “If I may have everyone’s attention, please.” Her voice rang out over the din of confused whispers. All eyes redirected to her.

Since he was beside her, Lance didn’t miss the subtle way she recoiled from the attention she’d requested. She looked like a deer pretending to be unaffected by the headlights shining directly at it. She’d always hated standing in front of crowds by herself despite having done it so much as a Paladin, so he wondered why this was the prank she’d thought up. As soon as he did, though, the answer came to him. It was because she trusted him to back her up. So he stepped forward to take half of the overwhelming attention from his partner-in-crime and save her.

“The next song is special to us here on Earth. It has outlasted generations and integrated itself into family customs all over the planet.”

Pidge sent him a brief, grateful look. He sent back a smile, thanking all of his older siblings for helping him develop a thick skin early in life through their own pranks on him.

All around them, humans and aliens alike waited for his next words with piqued interest.

“It’s a song believed to deepen the bonds among family members. We’d like to invite all of you to participate in its dance, to foster camaraderie among the members of the Alliance of the Free Worlds.”

Applause filled the ballroom. Aliens were completely taken in; the humans, not so much. They were still trying to figure out what this ‘special song’ was.

Lance exchanged a deceptively innocent smile with Pidge.

Well, all would be revealed soon enough.

The song began with a catchy loop of synthesized tones. He and Pidge started shaking their hips in time with the beat.

The audience was divided. Part of them watched enthusiastically as they witnessed the ‘Earthling family custom’ for the first time, while the other part…

“Pfft—”

“ _Lance_!” Pidge hissed from the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

The human part of the audience was starting to recognize the song, and their varied reactions were priceless. They were a spectrum of enraged-but-unable-to-shout-at-them Iverson, slightly-disappointed-but-also-amused Sam and Shiro, indifferent Ryan, clueless Keith and Ina, excited Colleen and James, and trying-not-to-die-of-laughter Matt, Veronica, Hunk, and Nadia.

Whatever their reactions were, they had no choice but become accomplices in the prank.

All together, the entire hall followed the humans, led by Lance and Pidge, as they danced:

Stretch the right hand facing down, then the left. Turn the right hand to face up, then the left. Cross the arms to touch the opposite shoulder, then uncross to put each hand behind the ear one at a time. Cross the hands again to touch the opposite hip, then uncross to put the hands on the bum. Make a large circle with the hip, jump to face the right, then do the dance all over again.

The song had a simple dance, so most of the guests had it down pat by the time everyone faced the front once more.

It was an unbelievable sight: world leaders and planet rulers, alien and human, dancing in sync to a silly pop song. At the same time, it amazed Lance anew, seeing all of them share the common goal of having fun together. No matter how much flak he and Pidge got for doing this, he’d assert that the end justified the prank.

Just as another dance cycle began, Pidge inched closer to him. “Let’s get outta here.”

His movements slowed in surprise. “Why? Isn’t this the prank?”

She contained her laughter by biting her bottom lip. “I added the song to the queue ten times.”

“Oh shi—”

“Yes, so we’ve got to go _now_.”

They continued dancing, taking advantage of the jumps to move towards the exit. It took one whole cycle of the dance.

Once they'd made it outside, they finally allowed themselves to laugh with abandon, dashing towards where Pidge had kept an Atlas escape pod—because they _were_ escaping—ready for them. Suddenly he was seventeen again, still naïve and unjaded by the years-long war ahead of him, running around the Space Mall with her. The nostalgia hit him hard, but it only made him grin wider. He’d missed feeling this way.

“I think we just redefined apeshit tonight, Pidge,” Lance said, still not done laughing over the mind-blowing success of their prank. They’d definitely get a tirade from Iverson and an earful each from Sam and Shiro, but it was worth every reprimand.

Pidge smiled as they took off. “Really? Good to know.”

“Yeah.” He relaxed into his seat with a content sigh. “Where are we absconding?”

“Absconding?” she mock-scoffed. “What a coward.”

He shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m still a little scared of Iverson. I mean, he’s my direct superior.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Right. Anyway, we’re eating. We didn’t get the chance back there.”

His stomach growled when she said that and growled louder when he realized where they’d landed: the pizza place he and Hunk used to sneak out to after curfew.

He sat up. “I didn’t know they’d reopened!”

“I heard it’s only been a few days. The arcade next to it is operational, too.”

Lance turned to her. “Come to think of it, we never got to have that team bonding over pizza all those years ago.”

“Wanna have it now?” she asked, but she avoided his gaze for some reason. She also seemed to be holding her breath.

His brows furrowed slightly.

_Why?_

Maybe she wanted to make up for snubbing him and Hunk before? There was nothing to make up for, though; they all understood her reasons in the end.

Wanting to reassure her, he replied, “Fave pizza place with one of my fave people? Definitely!”

Pidge beamed at him.

For a few seconds, Lance thought it was morning.

“Great! Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand and led the way to the diner. He followed silently, reeling from her brilliant smile and the way it warmed his cheeks.

He shook himself internally. He knew she was undergoing her last stage of growth and development, as she’d wearily explained last year. But it had been a year since he’d hung out with her long enough to notice everything that had and hadn’t changed. She never ran out of suitors, after all, and she was unexpectedly open to dating all types of aliens and humans, so she was always in a relationship. Well, except during the Valentine’s season, which only occurred once a year.

Sometimes Lance felt like a doctor seeing a patient for an annual checkup. But instead of being pleased that his patient was growing as expected, he felt lost because he couldn’t keep up with how much his patient was changing. He figured his reaction stemmed from that.

He sighed.

_What a sad a thought._

Fingers snapped in his face. He let out a half-scream.

“Welcome back to Earth,” Pidge said, elbow on the table, chin cupped by her hand, and looking really bored.

His eyes swept the pizza place to reorient himself. Everything, from the vintage style to the neon lights of random inspirational quotes, was exactly as it had been before the Sendak’s invasion. “How long was I zoning out?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Uh… We were just about to enter, I think?”

“That’s eight minutes ago.”

“Eight minutes?!”

“Yeah. You didn’t have to think that hard about your order, you know?”

He glared weakly at her. “I know what to order,” he grumbled.

She arched a dubious brow. “Then what’s got you staring at the menu for eight minutes?”

 _You._ “I was engraving our prank in my memory,” he lied at the last second, but she bought it anyway.

She placed both forearms on the table and leaned forward eagerly. “They should’ve noticed by now right? Who do you think would contact us first?”

Lance replied with a noncommittal shrug, but his mood had already lifted at her smug smirk, and he ended up mirroring it. He raised a hand to hail the waitress.

Her eyes widened in recognition once she reached their table. “You-You’re—”

“Yup,” Pidge cut in with a wink. “Can you keep it a secret between us three?”

The waitress flushed. “Y-Yes!”

After she’d taken their orders and they were alone again, Lance pouted.

“I was supposed to do the charming, Pidge.”

“Oh? Are you implying I’m charming, Lance?” she asked.

Her eyes and smile were teasing, yet he found it hard to answer, confusing him a third time that night.

She stared at him expectantly. Still, no words would form in his mind. His hands began to sweat. His heart picked up its pace.

On perfect timing, Pidge’s phone chimed, his phone pinging immediately after.

It was Hunk. He sent them a video of the Alliance VIPs winding down during the song’s outro and then confusedly dancing again as the song restarted.

 _“Oh boy,”_ Hunk’s voice said before sniggering. _“I gotta say, this was_ epic _. You two have outdone yourselves.”_ He sounded so proud that Lance and Pidge couldn’t help grinning proudly at each other.

 _“The repercussions would be epic, too.”_ The camera panned to the left to show a smirking Keith crossing his arms.

Behind him, Matt was giving the camera a salute. It was the salute reserved for Garrison personnel who died in the line of duty. _“My respects to those who laid down their lives for the cause!”_

Lance gulped down the dread in his throat. He heard Pidge do the same.

In the gloomy silence that ensued, their orders arrived.

“We’re screwed, aren’t we,” she said quietly, surely, as if the consequences of the prank were only now sinking in. “D-Doesn’t matter,” she assured, probably herself more than Lance. “I choose to regret nothing.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he said, placing a garlic knot on her plate. “We survived a war. We won’t die because of a harmless, fun prank.” He paused in thought. “But imagine if we do. Headlines all over the universe would read:”—At this, he raised his hand, pretending to read something from a digital signage—“‘ _Former Red and Green Paladins Hanged for Valentine’s Day Ball Prank.’_ We’d be more legendary after we die.”

Pidge choked on her garlic knot and started coughing. In a panic, he poured her glass after glass of water until she recovered. It took around three minutes, three and a half glasses, ten coughs, and one helpless Lance.

“P-Pidge, are you—”

Though still a little pale, she threw her head back and _exploded_ in laughter.

He’d begun to crane his neck to check for other customers but decided against it. If he was going to be hanged, he might as well go all out, right? So he threw his head back and laughed with her.

They must’ve laughed for half an hour. Every time it seemed that they’d finally calmed down, they’d meet each other’s eyes, snigger, then laugh again.

“We’re so dumb,” Pidge said after a while, shaking her head fondly.

“What’re you saying? We’re geniuses. Con artists who duped the most powerful individuals in the universe to dance the ‘Macarena’.” Mirth threatened another fit of laughter, but he pushed it down by biting into his slice of pizza. “But you know, whether we die or not, this has got to be my best Valentine’s Day ever. Best day of this year, too.”

And there it was, the odd look he saw last year, flashing across her face. He hadn’t given it much thought last year, but as she put her fork down and opened her mouth to speak, he resolved to listen attentively.

“Do you…” she began to say. But then she pursed her lips.

“Yeah?” he encouraged.

“Do you want to… go to the arcades now?”

He blinked at her. “Sure. No need to ask so seriously,” he added with a friendly nudge when he saw her suppressing a grimace.

She released a sigh. “Yeah. You’re right.” It sounded tired and resigned, and he frowned in concern.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Totally.” She stood up after paying her share of the bill.

“That right? So you’re ready for defeat?” he taunted as he paid for his share.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. The competitive glint in her eyes told him she’d accepted his challenge. “Are you?” she returned.

“I’m ready to win,” he answered confidently, following her out.

She obliterated him at the fighting games. It was a given for her, having fingers made nimble by typing codes and pretty much all of the combination moves memorized.

But he easily beat her at the shooting games. It was a given for him, being Team Voltron’s Sharpshooter.

They stayed until closing time, going apeshit here as well and emptying a claw crane of its stuffed Voltron Lions.

Pidge giggled at the stuffed Green, Blue, and Black Lions squished in her arms. “Best Valentine’s Day ever, best night of the year.”

Lance grinned at her over the Red, Yellow, and Black Lions he was hugging. “Right?” They’d have to behave next year, but maybe they could still find something else that could beat this year’s Valentine’s Day. The possibilities were endless, and he was excited to explore them with her. “Next year—”

Wait, why was he assuming she wouldn’t go with a partner next year?

He stilled.

_That’s right._

Pidge just happened to need someone to go to the Ball with her last year and this year. When she finds someone who wasn’t a jerk or whose personality didn’t clash with hers, she’d naturally go with them. He couldn’t be selfish and expect her to be his date every year just because it was fun.

“Huh? What about next year?”

Lance suddenly realized that the time he spent with Pidge was borrowed. After today, someone would ask her out, and she’d be spending most of her limited free time on dates with that person, and he’d be watching from the sidelines again, waiting for the rare lunches together and get-togethers with the other members of the Team.

“Lance?” Pidge called, concern evident on her face. She’d walked over to check on him without him noticing.

“It’s nothing; was just wondering if we’d survive Iverson’s punishment and live to go next year.”

She chuckled.

He smiled even as his heart sank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance in his [dapper suit](http://usa.comercialmoyano.com/en/gentleman/2129.html?fbclid=IwAR2w0ZhR_rWFhkm038a_c4YG4KXBxhcIPbVR3wr8UsJzxV31ZjjJIc2KnUs) and slicked-back hair and Pidge in a [gorgeously sparkling, risqué dress](http://fashionsy.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/zuhairmurad-couture-fw15-16_34.jpg). I can't describe them well enough; here are the inspirations for your reference and as an apology. orz
> 
> In this fic we honor and respect Shiro as Black Paladin, which is why he gets a stuffed Black Lion, too. ^u^ Thanks for reading!!


	4. Dubious Denial (Stage 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time's the charm—or not.

Lance wasn’t a firm believer of the saying, ‘the third time’s the charm’, but for Pidge’s sake he kind of became one.

It wasn’t that he was a boring date—he definitely wasn’t, if his prank with her last year was anything to go by—or that he didn’t want to go with her to this year’s Ball—because he did, desperately; he just wanted her to find someone who liked her regardless of her status, affiliations, or connections. He wanted her to be happy and successful in love in the way that he hadn’t been.

And so he couldn’t help the vindictiveness he felt on her behalf when he caught her latest partner holding hands with someone obviously not Pidge.

He also couldn’t help acting on his emotions rather than his logic.

* * *

Pidge started as he barged into her lab. “Lance?! What happened to your hand?”

“I socked your partner,” he replied. “They’re cheating on you, Pidge!” The indignation still burned wildly within him. How dare they cheat on _Pidge_ of all people?!

She averted her eyes. “No, they’re not.”

“Yes they are!” he insisted, taking a seat while she searched for her first aid kit. “I saw them getting all intimate with a Galra! Those two even left on the same craft after I punched your partner in the face!”

She sighed and handed him a cold compress. “They’re not cheating on me because I broke up with them last week.”

He gaped at her for a long time. “What? Why?”

Pidge sat down, rolled her chair to stop across from him, and pulled her knees to her chest. She had that same odd look he’d get from her every now and then, more apparent than ever on her face. “…You know how there are always at least two test groups in experiments, one experimental and one control for comparison?”

Lance nodded, shifting the cold compress to press a cooler side to his knuckles.

“And you know how the number of replicates affects the validity of the results?”

He nodded again. He knew all of that, but what did it have to do with breaking up with her partner?

As if sensing his unspoken question, Pidge continued, “It’s like that with dating. For me, at least.”

He tilted his head sideward. “An experiment?”

“Well, not _exactly_ an experiment. More like… uh…” She paused, knitting her brows thoughtfully. She seemed conflicted for some moments, struggling for words to explain her thoughts coherently.

Lance waited in silence, even as the silence extended into minutes.

When Pidge finally spoke again, she met his gaze, her eyes full of meaning that he couldn’t really comprehend. “See, I have a standard. A control. I’ve been searching for someone who can surpass it, but…” She shrugged. “As you can see, everyone I’ve dated so far has failed. No one can compare to the control.” Her lips twisted into a pained smile, and it pained him to see her look so hopeless.

It was the first time she ever opened up to him about her love life, and though he wanted to know more, he could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

So he opted to veer off the current topic into a lighter one. “Does this mean we’re going to the Ball together this year, too?” he asked with an expectant tone.

The expression on her face slackened into surprise before a smile—a happy, excited one this time, to his relief—brightened her gloomy features. “What do you think we should do?”

“Hmm… For starters, we should behave. Last year was a close call.”

They both shuddered at the memory of months on exclusive deskwork, piles of reflection essays, and countless reprimands they’d been penalized with.

“I know. No pranks. No going apeshit.”

He considered her words. “No, we can still go apeshit.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Are you crazy?” she asked, at which he scoffed.

“I’d rather call myself a man with an idea.”

“Fine. Let’s hear your idea.”

“We dress up like angels to show how much we’ve repented.”

Pidge crinkled her nose. “Not into the angels thing, but maybe some other deity?”

“Greek gods?”

“Too cliché.”

“Roman?”

“They’re basically the same, right?”

“Eastern?”

“I don’t know much about them.”

They hummed as they worked their brains for more ideas, Lance with his arms crossed and Pidge with her arms stretched and hands planted within the space of her crossed legs.

If they were to dress up as deities…

“How about—” “How about—”

Their heads jerked towards each other.

“You go first,” Pidge said.

“No, you can go first,” Lance offered.

“How about we dress up as the Guardian Spirits of our elements?”

He gasped in awe. “Pidge, that’s exactly what I was thinking!”

A pleased giggle bubbled out of her. “Our minds, am I right?” She held a hand up, and he slapped it in a high five.

“We have to look ethereal to intimidate people and stop them from approaching. Especially those who might want to scold us for last year.”

“It’s okay, Lance, you can say Iverson and Montgomery.”

He merely raised his brows at her, though he could feel a smile betraying his amusement.

Pidge laughed. Her laughter always rang joyfully; Lance liked hearing it and seeing her so happy. “‘From Con Artists to Fashion Icons.’” When he stared confusedly at her, she elaborated, “Headlines all over the universe once they see us.”

He grinned. “We’ll rock this Valentine’s Day Ball, too.”

“Totally.”

Thus, his yearly borrowed time with Pidge began.

* * *

Lance arrived fifteen minutes late at the ballroom entrance. Pidge was nowhere to be seen, which meant he must be the only subject of the whispering among the few other latecomers. He could sense their eyes scrutinizing him, and he felt so exposed. Hunk and Veronica had assured him that his outfit looked great; even Keith unexpectedly agreed. But until his partner-in-crime arrives and gives him her verdict, he’d remain uneasy and unsure.

A hush suddenly fell over the hallway, save for the clicking of heels.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” he heard Pidge’s relieved greeting before he saw her. He turned around.

And he froze.

Or maybe everyone else stood still.

Or maybe time paused.

A crown of roses, lilies, daffodils, and carnations adorned Pidge’s head and twined around her hair, leaving a few strands loose to frame her face. Her off-shoulder bodice was an explosion of various flowers, leaves, and vines tapering past the thin, gold belt that cinched her waist, which matched the golden bangles around each wrist. Her skirt draped gracefully down to her knees. The whole dress shimmered a different shade of green—sometimes even gold—with every movement; it reminded him of the sun filtering through canopies of trees in a forest. Her shoes were covered entirely by leaves, grass blades, and flower buds, as if spring accompanied her every step. And her vibrant smile completed the look.

Lance could only describe her in a single word: _sublime_.

“Whoa, you look like you’re dressed in water!”

At her comment, time resumed, everyone began to move again, and he snapped out of his trance.

“You don’t think I overdid it?” he asked self-consciously. “I’m starting to feel ridiculous.”

Pidge gave him a reassuring smile that dissipated all his doubts. “I think you outdid yourself,” she affirmed, inspecting him from different angles. “Two things, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you even wearing anything underneath?”

He stared at her with a quirked brow.

She caught his questioning look. “It’s a serious question,” she confirmed so seriously that he burst into laughter.

“Don’t be rude, Pidge. What’s your other question?”

She frowned, not quite letting go of her first question, before moving on to the next. “You’re the Red Paladin, Guardian Spirit of _Fire_. Why are you covered in water?”

“Actually, I’m _both_ the Red and Blue Paladin, so I’m also the Guardian Spirit of Water together with Allura. I just chose water because it matches my armor’s color.”

“Mm. If you say so,” she conceded with a shrug.

“I do say so. Now let’s talk about your outfit—”

“Do you think there’s too much flowers?” she cut in. “Allura insisted on a crown so we had to use hypoallergenic flowers. Did you know she and Coran make the best flower crowns? I knew they loved juniberries, but I didn’t think they’d—”

“Pidge,” he interrupted gently, “You’re rambling.”

A pretty blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Oh. I’m just really nervous.”

“Well, don’t be.” _You’re perfect._

Lance blinked.

Pidge blinked and turned redder.

Did he… Did he just _accidentally_ _voice out_ _his thoughts_?

He cleared his throat in an attempt to suppress his embarrassed flush and held out a hand to her. “A-Anyway, shall we descend upon the mortals?”

Cheeks still tinged pink, she took his hand, and together they entered the ballroom. He belatedly noticed the translucent, iridescent fabrics trailing behind her, sewn where the off-shoulder straps of her dress inserted into the back of the bodice. They were made to imitate fairy wings, he realized. The effort and detail that Pidge and her team of designers—because she couldn’t possibly have done all of this alone—had put into creating the dress were amazing.

“Who’s on your dress team?” he asked.

“Hmm… Mom, Allura, Coran, Nadia, Ina, Matt, and—you wouldn’t believe this— _Curtis._ ”

“Curtis? Like, Shiro’s Curtis?”

She shot him an impatient look. “Who else—” Then she stopped. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, he figured it out.

The entire ballroom had been stunned into silence.

He didn’t know whether it was because he and Pidge had accomplished their goal or because they’d just committed the gravest fashion faux-pas in the whole universe. The sudden barrage of camera flashes didn’t indicate which one they were being photographed for, either. For a few, agonizingly long minutes, they stood rooted to their spots as cameras flashed and silence turned into whispers that gradually escalated to excited chatter.

“I uh… guess we did it?” Pidge asked quietly as a photographer told her to pose.

Lance shrugged, the fabric of his outfit shimmering and flowing with the movement. “I guess. Let’s see if people were intimidated by our ethereal beauty.”

They weren’t.

Instead, world leaders from all sectors of the universe approached him and Pidge out of admiration and curiosity, much to his disappointment.

But at least no alien approached him to proclaim him as persona non grata in their planet.

After sharing the story behind his outfit _way_ too many times and dancing with even more people, Lance was dead tired, and he wanted out. He excused himself for a washroom break to sneak up to the rooftop.

The cold, crisp air nipped at his cheeks, blowing off some of his weariness. He lay on his back and cradled his head in his hands. Far above him, the stars twinkled in constellations he’d memorized since childhood. Now that the war was over and the entire universe was liberated, not much had been left unstudied or undiscovered. Everyone understood everything that was lightyears away, and yet…

_And yet we’re completely confused by everything that’s closest to us._

His mind travelled back to his conversation with Pidge a couple weeks ago, about experimental groups and controls. He found her outlook on love rather sad. A control that no one else can compare to…

Lance released a breath.

He hoped more than anything that her control finally notices how amazing a person she was, or that she finally finds someone who lets her know and makes her feel precisely that.

The rooftop doors swooshed open to announce another guest, and a startled cry confirmed who it was.

“Absconding, are we?” Pidge teased once she’d recovered from her surprise.

He craned his neck to glance at her. “You’re absconding, too.”

“Touché.”

“Coward.”

“You mispronounced ‘tired of people’.” She sat cross-legged beside him, following his gaze towards the sky. “So what’s a puddle of water doing on the rooftop?”

“Hiding from men and women who want to undress me.”

“Whoa, you’re regressing, Lance.”

“No, I don’t mean it in _that_ way; they literally want my outfit so they can copy it. What’re _you_ doing up here?”

“Retiring from socializing for the night. I’m tired of dancing and talking and smiling, but I can’t reject anyone because they’re all leaders and representatives of their planets.” She heaved an exhausted sigh, as if the thought alone wore her down. “If I’m not there, then no one can approach me for anything.”

He sighed, too. “Join the club.”

“Thanks.”

They shared a long, companionable silence. It was a refreshing contrast to the din of the ballroom and the cacophony of admirers shouting at him over the music.

Eventually, his thoughts drifted back to his earlier reflection.

Pidge had always been a mystery to him, and she was all the more so after the war. He knew that she was just the private type of person who mostly kept her thoughts to herself. Still, he wanted a peek from her perspective of the world, which was almost the polar opposite of his. He wanted to know what made her ‘control’ so special that nobody else could match up to it.

The silence stretched on as he worked himself up to ask.

He took a deep breath. “Pidge?”

“Mm?”

“Can you tell me about your ‘control’?”

She looked down at him. Her eyes shone a subdued honey under the rising full moon, her face softening in a melancholy smile.

His hand twitched with the impulse to reach out to her. Perplexed at the strong and sudden urge, he clenched his hand beneath his head until the urge or his chance had passed, easing up only after Pidge was once more gazing up at the starry sky.

“He’s not really mine, so it’s better to refer to him as _the_ control,” she began.

From where he lay, Lance couldn’t see what expression she was making, and he wondered if he should apologize and steer clear of this topic for good. But she kept talking.

“The control is someone who’s strong, brave, and reliable. He has great judgment most of the time—when he’s not being a dumbass.” He heard the fond smile in her voice. For some reason, his chest tightened at the sound. “He loves finding fun in everything, too, so there’s rarely a boring moment with him.”

Memories of their shenanigans with Hunk surfaced in his mind. The fun times she spent with this control must’ve been much more exciting than those she spent with him and Hunk.

 _“_ He can be unbearably silly, though. It pisses me off sometimes, but I can’t stay mad for too long.”

“Really? He never makes it on your mental list of grudges?” he chimed in.

“Hey, I don’t have a mental list of grudges!”

“Then a physical list?”

“Digital.”

They laughed.

“In any case, maybe that’s why he’s so good at making friends. He’s silly, but in an endearing way,” she continued. “But I guess the best thing about him is that he loves his family and friends so much that he’s fiercely protective of them.”

_“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!!”_

His heart jolted at the ghostly echo of his enraged words and the vivid flash of memory that accompanied it. Even after the memory had disappeared, his pounding heart maintained its rapid pace as it pumped out one question:

_Is she… talking about me?_

_…No. That’s impossible,_ his brain answered, but its reply came too late; in its moment of hesitation, his heart was able to ignite a flicker of hope within him.

And once ignited, it was impossible to put out.


	5. Realization (Stage 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is love, anyway?

Did Lance love Pidge?

Of course. She was family, like the rest of Team Voltron.

But did he love her in another way—say, romantically?

Maybe. Hard to say. He’d learned not to label his feelings as romantic love so easily following his relationship with Allura. While things ended well with her, the same might not with Pidge, and he didn’t want to ruin their friendship if his feelings turned out to be a passing infatuation.

And yet he felt a pang of something in his chest when he heard that Pidge had started dating again, a dull ache that wouldn’t subside even after taking a day off.

He got himself checked in the infirmary. He even visited Altea for Coran’s assessment. Both results came out normal.

But the pain persisted, putting him in a constant low mood.

Veronica was the first to notice.

“Lance, are you alright?” she’d asked over lunch one time.

“‘Course,” he’d replied automatically and not-so-truthfully. “Why’d you ask?”

“You don’t seem to have as much energy lately.” Though she didn’t show her concern, he heard it in her voice anyway. It alleviated the ache in his chest.

He smiled at his sister, his home away from home. “I’m fine, Veronica,” he assured. “I thought I was gonna get sick, but I’m okay now.” _For the most part._

She studied him closely. He had a feeling that she didn’t quite believe him, but she eventually shrugged. “You can come to me if you have problems. Or you can always visit home. Mom would be happy.”

“I know.”

Just when he thought the conversation was over, she asked, “…You’re sure you’re not dying?”

A short laugh escaped him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Good.”

* * *

It was when Pidge broke up with her partner that Lance’s symptom resolved, and he found a brief respite before she found someone new again. His general mood had begun to fluctuate between normal and glum—morose on days he couldn’t ignore his chest ache—as if following the cycle of Pidge’s relationships.

So did that mean he loved her romantically?

Probably. But he still wasn’t sure.

What he _was_ sure of was that he’d shut up and bear it. If the doctor says he was all good, then he was. Even if he felt all SNAFU inside.

* * *

Pidge called him in the middle of the night.

 _“Hi, Lance,”_ she greeted with a shaky voice. She sounded strange. Like she was underwater, or she had a stuffed nose, or…

A stifled sob came over the line, and sleep instantly lost its groggy hold on him.

_Or she was crying._

Lance sat up. “Pidge! What’s wrong?”

 _“I’m just… tired. Exhausted. Frustrated,”_ she answered haltingly in between sobs _. “I w-wanted to talk to someone from the Team, but everyone’s… off-planet, and I didn’t wanna wake Curtis up if I call Shiro, and—”_

“It’s fine,” he cut in reassuringly before her long-winded explanation ended in an apology. He got up and quickly got dressed, keeping the line with Pidge open.

Of all the days she needed someone to be there to comfort her, it had to be the weekend he’d gone home to visit his family. Lance sighed internally. He thought they’d saved the whole universe, but apparently they didn’t get to save its good timing.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Pidge should be back at the Garrison right now, either in her lab or her room. Since she was crying so openly, he figured she must be in the privacy of her room.

_“I don’t—know. How-How’s Kaltenecker doing?”_

“She’s doing really well. Might be giving birth tomorrow or within a few days.” He gathered his things, searching for a pen and paper to write a quick note. Mom and Dad would be disappointed, but they’d understand.

Only muffled sobs could be heard from the other end.

Worry gnawed at his gut. Had he ever seen or heard Pidge break down like this? “Pidge?”

 _“I’m here,”_ she replied with a sniffle. _“Just keep talking.”_

So he did. He talked about his students and that one team that failed the simulation in almost the exact same way they had, going backwards to their time as Paladins. The city lights blinked up at him as he steered his plane towards the direction of the Garrison, disappearing behind him once he’d fired up his boosters to full blast.

On and on he talked, and on and on Pidge sobbed. The dull ache in his chest grew into a pain that seemed to constrict his heart and lungs. He didn’t know how to console her other than be there for her in person, and his plane couldn’t deliver him where he needed to be fast enough.

He ran out of things to say just as he’d parked his plane in the Garrison’s hangar. To his slight relief, her sobs had decreased in volume and frequency, but she still wasn’t ready to speak. They lapsed into a long, sad silence, with Pidge crying alone in her room and Lance desperate to remedy that.

At long last, he reached her room.

He placed a hand on the door. No sound filtered from inside; she probably had some soundproofing system installed so no one would hear her singing to her favorite songs at the top of her lungs or catch her crying her heart out like this. He closed his eyes at the painful thought.

“Pidge, open the door,” he said quietly, not waiting for her answer before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

Seconds ticked by like hours; they left him anxious to see her already.

When her door finally hissed open and he saw her tearful, astonished face, he walked right up to her to wrap her tightly in his arms. She remained absolutely still for a short while, but in time, her hands slowly went up to clutch the back of his shirt and she began to release heart-wrenching sobs into his chest.

What did one say at a time like this? He for one couldn’t string words into comforting sentences unless he knew what the problem was, and he was certain that ‘exhausted’ and ‘frustrated’ just didn’t sum up Pidge’s feelings right now. Having nothing else to offer, he nuzzled the top of her head and kept her secure in his embrace.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that it was enough for her to let everything out.

“How’d you know where I was?” Her question was a quiet mumble that he nearly missed.

“Intuition,” he answered simply. She nodded against him and didn’t ask him to elaborate.

“You didn’t have to go all the way here,” she mumbled again, but the way she pulled him closer told him she appreciated it anyway.

Once the constricting pain in his chest had waned, Lance was able to inflate his lungs with a deep, relieved breath. Pidge had calmed down; his job here was almost done.

“You should rehydrate and get some rest,” he advised, gently pulling away and guiding her to her bed. He took in the details of her dimly lit room while he searched for her favorite tumbler. Though the interior was different from her room at the Castle of Lions, it was designed similarly: fairy lights lining the walls, a collage of pictures in one area of the wall beside her bed, tech projects and papers strewn all around. It had the same chaos that he remembered, but it looked neat and organized now—if that made sense.

Well, maybe it did make sense because he found what he was looking for easily.

He sat beside Pidge and handed her the water tumbler, which she drank from without a fuss.

“Okay, you can lie down now,” he said, retrieving the tumbler in her hands.

She didn’t move.

His worry returned. “Pidge?”

For the first time that night, she met his gaze. Red eyes, red nose, red cheeks, wild hair, broken expression. “Can you… Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Lance couldn’t say no.

Nor did he intend to.

After tucking her under her covers, he lay on his side so they faced each other. She was staring at him with a pained expression he couldn’t name. Her tears had begun to flow again, yet she still stared, as if she didn’t quite trust that he’d stay until she was sound asleep.

“You don’t have to guard me, Pidge,” he said softly. “I’ll be here until you start snoring.”

Pidge huffed indignantly then sniffled. “I don’t snore.”

He replied with a taunting shrug, “I’ll be the judge of that.” That earned him a weak glare.

“Fine,” she said, wiping her tears away and closing her eyes.

An affectionate smile tugged at his lips. Pidge and her stubborn instinct to rise up to any challenge to prove herself. Most of the time, it worked in her favor. On rare times like this, though, it was a good manipulation tactic.

Despite her resistance, sleep claimed her in no time. Lance watched in silence as her knitted brows smoothened, as her face let go of that unnamed expression, as her body went slack, and as her breathing fell into a deep, steady rhythm.

She looked peaceful, save for the stray tear sliding down the side of her nose. He wiped it with the back of his finger. When she didn’t stir, he dared to lightly cup her face in his hand.

Did he love Pidge romantically?

Lance realized right then and there that he did.

* * *

Days later, he discovered that the reason behind Pidge’s breakdown was a fight with her current partner. And that they’d since made up.

The knowledge stabbed him straight in the heart.

It was a hurt unlike any other.

* * *

So Lance loved Pidge.

That didn’t mean he’d just barge into her relationship and selfishly confess. That also didn’t mean he’d go ballistic with jealousy; he wasn’t entitled to her feelings.

 _But_ not being selfish and entitled didn’t mean he was sorry when she eventually ended things with the loser who had the gall to make her cry, or that he wasn’t secretly relieved that she’d turned down all other suitors since then.

“This seat taken?”

Lance looked up from his teaching materials to answer, but Pidge was already taking the seat across from him, slumping on the table with her forehead on her forearms.

She let out an exasperated groan.

He put all his papers aside. “Bad day?”

“That’s a gross, massive understatement, but yes,” came her grumpy reply. “Why can’t I go to the Ball alone? Why can’t I _skip_? It’s just some party the Garrison arbitrarily—and obnoxiously—set on Valentine’s Day anyway, not a nationwide or planet-wide holiday. I refuse to be eaten by the system. I didn’t fight and win a war just to waste one whole day dressing up when I could be working at my lab or getting a vacation.”

“Wow, really bad day, huh?”

“One of the _worst_. Higher ups rejected my request for a leave of absence until the sixteenth because they want me here for the damn Ball.”

“Have you had your coffee yet?”

“…No.”

 _There_ was the main source of her grumpiness.

He got up to fix two cups of coffee. “I know you already know this, but you’re a living legend and VIP who also represents Earth. Your sudden absence will send the whole universe gossiping. The honchos are just trying to avoid that,” he reasoned as he set the cups down on the table.

That only got a grumble out of her.

“Look…” He sat back down, crossed his forearms on the table, then rested his chin on them. “You could still derive some fun this year, too, you know? A lot of the guests would probably wear avant-garde outfits this time. Don’t you want to see their reactions when we walk in in the simplest, most classic outfits instead?”

She slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze. His breath hitched at how close their faces were, and it stopped completely when he saw the small, mischievous smile that he knew so well.

“It’s a plan.”

He’d do anything to keep her smiling.

* * *

Lance’s prediction was as accurate as his aim. He could tell which of the attendees were invested in this yearly event based on what they were wearing, and it seemed that a vast majority had dressed up with creative abandon, turning the Ball into a posh costume party. Not unlike—

“Are we attending a Valentine’s Day Ball or a Halloween party?”

He glanced at Pidge, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. The other guests had already noticed their entrance and were regarding them with either perplexed or disappointed eyes.

“I can’t believe it,” a pouting Allura greeted as she and Coran approached.

“You’re wearing normal Earthling designs!” Coran added with an appalled shake of his head.

“To think that you’ve inspired us with your ideas last year.”

“Sorry, Allura,” Lance apologized. “Just wanted to mess with everyone on a lesser scale than two years ago,” he explained sheepishly, still remembering the earful she’d given him and Pidge before telling them it had been a fun experience nonetheless.

Pidge was wisely keeping attention away from herself by not talking.

Allura narrowed her eyes at them. “Hmm. I guess I’ll let it pass this time.” Then she perked up. “Well? What do you guys think?” she asked excitedly. As the Blue Paladin, she’d also decided to dress up as the Guardian Spirit of Water. But she looked so majestic that ‘goddess’ seemed like the better descriptor.

“You look like a water goddess!” Apparently, Pidge had the same opinion.

“Yeah!” Lance enthused. “You look wonderful. Out of this world.”

The other three quirked their brows at him.

“Lance. Allura’s literally an alien,” Pidge said.

“I know that! It’s just an idiom! Okay, what about out of this reality?” he tried again, but the meaning was lost in translation. He sighed. “Whatever, you get the point.”

Coran coughed to gain their attention. “What about me?” He spread his billowing cape behind him and posed. It was his personalized armor refurbished to have ten times more flair.

Lance exchanged a look with Pidge and grinned. “Fabulous,” they answered simultaneously, making Coran preen and Allura laugh pleasantly.

“Now then,” Allura said as she took Pidge’s hand. “It’s been too long since we saw each other; I’m sure you have a lot of stories for me.” She directed her gaze at Lance. Her eyes had a knowing gleam in them that had him averting his eyes. Why was she looking at him like that? What did she know? “You wouldn’t mind lending Pidge, would you?”

 _Oh_.

Was he that obvious with his feelings?

Feeling exposed, he felt blood rushing up to his cheeks. “You should ask the person yourself.”

“Oh, very well.” Dread seized him at her smug tone, and he just knew she was up to something. “Pidge. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you from Lance, would you?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising like it always did when she was excited.

His entire face was burning now. He didn’t hear Pidge’s answer. He didn’t even dare look in Pidge and Allura’s direction until they’d taken their leave.

“Aaand it’s just you and me now, young Paladin,” Coran said amiably.

Lance chuckled, recovering from his embarrassment. “I’m not young or a Paladin anymore, Coran.”

“Eh, you’ll always be so to me. One of my youngins!” Though half of his face was covered by his visor and half by his moustache, the affection in Coran’s reply was very clear.

Lance smiled at Coran. Coran had been his father figure—or rather, his uncle figure from the time they were living in space until now, despite living on different planets. He’d forever be thankful that Team Voltron’s bond had grown from that of a diverse group of people sharing the herculean mission of winning a war to the unbreakable bond of a family.

“Well, youngin, have you any news to share? Something lovey-dovey perhaps, in celebration of your Earthling holiday?”

He grimaced.

Okay, maybe their bond as a space family was _too_ strong. He couldn’t seriously be _that_ obvious, could he?

In a stroke of luck, the Taujeerian leader, dressed like a weblum, engaged Coran in a friendly debate and whisked him away. But Lance’s luck was short-lived. He’d barely finished sighing in relief when a drink appeared before him. He looked at the owner of the hand offering it.

“James,” he greeted, mildly surprised.

“McClain.” James jerked his head towards the drink—a gesture for Lance to take it. He then stood beside Lance, sipping from his own glass. “It’s strange to see you far from the spotlight. You’re usually in the middle of the dance floor leading the ‘Macarena’ dance.”

Lance gave him a slight smile. “I still haven’t lived it down, huh?”

“I don’t think you ever will,” was James’ amused reply.

“But Pidge was in on it, too.”

James shrugged. “Special case. Where is she, anyway? I don’t see you two wreaking havoc this year.”

“Catching up with Allura.” Lance scanned the hall for the two and found them participating in an Altean social dance with a few others who knew it. “Or dancing with her.”

Their conversation petered out as they watched the dancers twirl and hop and switch partners. The dance seemed fast, but its steps were simple and easy to follow after one got used to the speed. There were only six sets of moves repeated all throughout the dance, each set divided into three counts. Lance enjoyed merely watching; it must be fun to actually be dancing.

After watching for some time, his gaze shifted to study the guy beside him from the corner of his eye. Griffin—or, since he insisted on going by surnames even after fighting a war together and Lance didn’t care for the formality, _James_ —was a great guy. Great pilot, great soldier, great instructor, great colleague, great stick in the mud, too, if he wanted to be.

Lance also thought that he’d been a great match for Pidge.

James glanced at him. “What is it?”

He finished his drink before answering. “I’ve always wondered why you broke up with Pidge.”

James took another swig from his glass, and for a while it didn’t seem like he’d reply. “Simple,” he eventually said. “She was emotionally unavailable.”

“Oh.” _Because of the control._ Lance couldn’t help the pang of jealousy for this person, having such a hold on Pidge’s heart. If he… If he asked her out, how close would he get to the level of the control? He immediately chased the thought away. He wasn’t ready to do some estimations for risk of disappointment.

“I hope you realize how lucky you are,” James said, a rueful smile on his face. “She keeps herself available for you every Valentine’s Day.” With a polite nod, he left Lance to mull over his words.

And mull over them Lance did. The words stewed in his mind, and their meaning wouldn’t surface no matter how he stirred. He tried analyzing James’ statement in parts.

_“She keeps herself available…”_

Did that mean Pidge was breaking up with her partners on purpose?

_“…every Valentine’s Day.”_

He’d always found it strange and unfortunate that she always ended up alone around this time of the year, but…

_“…for you…”_

His mind formed a cold conclusion that froze his heart.

Pidge kept making herself available on Valentine’s Day because she knew he didn’t have anyone else to go to the Ball with. For _four consecutive years_.

She was probably doing it out of consideration, but for him, it came across as an act of pity. And he felt _pathetic_.

Lance headed for the ballroom’s beverage table and downed one, two, three glasses of cocktail in an attempt to wash out the feeling. The attempt was, of course, useless; he still felt pathetic but now also slightly disinhibited and a little flushed.

Pidge was still with Allura, but Shay, Nadia, Ina, Matt, and Coran had joined them. If she wanted to, she could go with anyone and still have lots of fun. She didn’t need him to be her specific date for that.

He gulped down his drink and reached for another one.

Hunk found him drinking from that new glass. Keith checked on him halfway through his next one. Shiro gave him a glass of iced water right after.

“Are you okay?” they all asked with open concern.

_Uh huh. Yup. Just lying low and enjoying this drink._

His wretched feeling festered as the night wore on; he was sure it had started showing on his face.

He kind of lost the will to care, though.

From a distance, he saw Pidge separate from the group, greet a few other guests, then wander for a short while in search for something. Him, he realized, when their eyes met and she practically ran towards him.

“Lance!” she called, a grin on her lips and a happy flush tingeing her cheeks. “There you—” Her eyes darted from his face down to the fresh glass in his hand, to the line of empty glasses on the table behind him. She pried his drink from his hand, set it on the table, and dragged him away.

Pidge let go of him once they’d made it to the rooftop. “Okay, start talking.” She crossed her arms and waited expectantly.

Lance looked away, towards the desert and the sky to his right. He could hardly see the stars in his lightheaded state.

After a long while, he heard her sigh and step closer. “Hey.” A hand rested on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded gently.

He could. He should. All those drinks should’ve loosened his tongue, so why did he still have to drag the words out of himself?

“James told me… that I’m lucky you keep yourself available to be my date for the Ball.”

The hand on his shoulder stilled. “…Lance, I—”

He scrunched his eyes shut. “Pidge, are you doing it out of pity?”

“—What?”

He lightly shrugged her off and put some distance between them. “All these years I thought you had an unlucky streak of breaking up with your partners during Valentine’s season, but— Are you actually ending things with them on purpose?” He looked at her then, catching the guilty expression on her face.

Betrayal bloomed painfully in his chest and sent his stomach roiling. It made him sick.

“Let me explain—”

“You didn’t have to do that!” he continued bitterly. “I wasn’t lonely! I was okay going to the Ball alone—or I could take my mom if I absolutely had to! It wouldn’t have changed my status as defender of the universe or anything!” He released a heavy breath. “You shouldn’t have sacrificed your relationships for a single insignificant day, Pidge. What if one of them could’ve surpassed your control, but you didn’t give them the chance? I’m not so selfish as to keep you from finding happiness, so don’t—”

A disbelieving huff cut him off.

He glared at its source. “Got something to say?”

“Yes,” she spat out. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She looked up at the heavens and let out an angry, incredulous laugh. “This can’t actually be happening.”

Her reaction confused him, but he hid his confusion by responding, “I’m being completely serious, and this is happening.”

She snapped her head towards him, her eyes glinting dangerously.

He didn’t back down. “Answer the question already. _Are you doing it out of pity?_ ”

When she marched up to him, he anticipated a slap square in the face. When she lifted her hand, he’d prepared for it. But in one quick motion she laid her hand on his nape, pulled down, and—

And crushed her lips onto his in a furious, searing kiss.

His brain stopped working, unable to reconcile what he’d psyched himself up for and what was currently happening.

_What—_

_Why—_

It ended before he could even react.

“Be the genius this time and figure it out,” she whispered against his lips, and then she was gone.

Her departure left him trembling and reeling, and it wasn’t just the cold February night, or the sudden loss of her body heat, or the alcohol in his system, or his deliriously pounding heart.

“I’m— I’m the…”

More than any of those, it was the realization that _he_ was the control.


End file.
